Not Just Another Night
by authors-anonymous
Summary: Lane & Dave - So this was why Rory did it. It was certainly worth the fuss. [Part 1 of the 'Unwritten Couple' Series](Complete)
1. Chapter One

Readers:  
  
As I write this, I have no idea where the story is going, and no idea what it is about. With any luck, I will deem it good enough for the general public to read, and in that case, you will be reading something that I hope you will enjoy. I have never before written a story that was not a satire or somewhat humorous, and never again intend to do so. This is my first attempt...hopefully it will not totally suck.  
  
With all due respect,  
  
authors-anonymous  
  
---  
  
"Lane...Lane..." a voice said, outside the window.  
  
Inside the sterile bedroom, Lane Kim woke up, a smile on her face. She wasn't a deep sleeper; she never had been. It was implanted in her subconscious: sleep heavy - Mama finds CD player. Or candy bar. Or wallet- sized cut out of Leonardo DiCaprio from some teenage magazine. It was a necessary skill, waking up on command. And recently it seemed to have come in handy. Silently, Lane made sure that her hair wasn't sticking up at an odd angle and got out of bed, pulling the blankets with her.  
  
Lane listened carefully to her Mother's heavy breathing in the room next door and opened the window. "Hi," she whispered, climbing out onto the ledge.  
  
"Hi," Dave said, and kissed her. "I missed you."  
  
"I missed you too," Lane said, settling the blanket over herself and her boyfriend. Lane snuggled up to Dave, lacing her warm fingers through his calloused ones.  
  
It had been like this for weeks now. Dave climbed the tree outside her window, woke her up, and they sat together, watching the sunrise, talking quietly. Lane couldn't believe how lucky she was. Here was this amazing guy, who actually liked her. Her! She still hadn't gotten over it. Just thinking about him made her heart skip a beat and her hands shake. It was utterly cliqued, and Lane knew it, but if it meant being one of 'those girls', she would take the punishment gladly.  
  
Dave nudged Lane slightly, making her look up. He kissed her again, sucking her lower lip into his mouth.  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Haven't we done this already?" Dave whispered into her ear, breathing on her neck.  
  
"Dave, take me away," Lane said suddenly, pulling away to look Dave in the face. "Take me away now."  
  
"Where do you want to go?" Dave asked sincerely.  
  
"Anywhere...just take me away."  
  
"What about school?"  
  
"We don't need it."  
  
"And money?"  
  
"I have a bit saved up. We can take odd jobs around the town."  
  
"What town?"  
  
"Any town, wherever we're living."  
  
"And Rory?" Dave asked, pulling her close again.  
  
"I'd send her postcards whenever we went somewhere new. She could put them up on her fridge like a map."  
  
"Like in that commercial."  
  
"Like in that commercial..."Lane agreed.  
  
"What about your Mother?"  
  
Lane was silent. She couldn't go away, she wasn't brave enough. That wasn't true, and she knew it. She wasn't stupid enough. She had always sworn that she would get out, get away as soon as she was old enough. But then she had always planned that she would go away with Rory.  
  
Rory had never known this. Lane was glad now that she had never shared her dream with her; if she had, Rory would have felt bad about going away with Lorelai or Jess or whoever she was going to go away with rather than Lane. Rory was like that- loyal.  
  
"What about us?" Lane whispered, not looking at Dave. "What about us?"  
  
Without seeing his expression, Lane knew that Dave was asking the same thing. He had proven himself to be 'the perfect secret boyfriend' and he deserved to be promoted.  
  
"Maybe-" she started, but stopped and whipped her head around. "Quick, hide!" she hissed, grabbing the blanket off Dave and closing the window on him. She threw the blanket over the bed hastily and had barely climbed in when her mother opened the door. Lane willed her breathing to be quiet. After a moment when Lane was sure she would be caught, her mother closed the door quietly and continued on her way (Lane could only assume) to the bathroom at the end of the hall.  
  
Lane wasn't close to her mother. She never loved her as a child, and the feeling hadn't suddenly materialized as she got older. There was respect. Lane respected her mother; She had always had clothes to wear, food to eat, a home- though stifled, she was welcomed. When Lane's father had died, Mama Kim mourned and moved on. As a child, Lane hadn't understood how her mother had made such a seamless transition from wife to widow. She still didn't.  
  
Lane waited. After what she deemed a long enough time to pretend to be asleep while her boyfriend was perched outside her window, Lane crept out of bed and opened the window.  
  
"I think you'd better go..." Lane said, even as her entire being was protesting.  
  
"Yeah," Dave said, and Lane was so caught up in her own acute misery she nearly missed the look that passed over his face.  
  
"Dave," Lane said, catching onto his arm. "I don't want you to go."  
  
"I know." Dave took Lane's hand in his, and without waiting for her to ready herself, kissed her, pulled back, lightly traced her lips with his index finger. "See you tomorrow," he said, and was gone.  
  
"Dave..." Lane mumbled, and put her cold hands to her warm lips, the contrast giving her goosebumps. "Oh Dave..."  
  
---  
  
"So, have you made any progress on the Dave front?" Rory was asking, as the two of them walked through the town.  
  
"None what-so-ever," Lane replied.  
  
"Have you considered just telling her?" Rory asked, as she gestured to Luke's absently. "I mean, I know she's Mama Kim, but when you're eighteen..."  
  
Lane sighed. It wasn't Rory's fault; she had never had a Korean Militant Mother before. "Somehow I don't think that that's the best idea."  
  
Rory's attention had wandered though. Jess looked up when he heard the door open, and walked over to them. "Table?" he asked, pulling Rory in for a kiss.  
  
"Let's sit at the counter," Lane said, and even though Rory hadn't yet responded, walked around Jess and sat down heavily.  
  
Rory wasn't completely useless though. "Fries," she told Jess, "and ice cream and-"  
  
"Coffee," Jess added before Rory finished. "Coming right up."  
  
Lane didn't say anything as Rory took off her coat and sat down wearing a t- shirt that Lane wouldn't be allowed to wear inside the house, never mind out. Lane was sure that it had been a dare or a lost bet to Lorelai.  
  
"So?" Rory asked, once the coffee had arrived. "What are you going to do?"  
  
"About...?" asked Lane, suddenly wishing that she hadn't brought up the topic of Dave.  
  
"Lane. You can't ignore the problem. What are you going to do when..." Rory stopped, embarrassed.  
  
"When we want to 'do stuff, you mean?" Lane finished for her. "I don't know. I don't even know how far we're going to go. If anywhere."  
  
"Look, I didn't mean it like that," Rory said, understanding without being told that she had prodded an open wound. "I just meant...well, I'm not sure exactly."  
  
Lane smiled at Rory. "Don't worry about it. Even if I was allowed to date Dave, I don't think Mama Kim would be too pleased if I started reproducing in my bedroom." Lane bit into a fry. "I mean, even you and Jess aren't..." Lane stopped at the look on Rory's face. "Oh my god, you didn't."  
  
"Well..." Rory said, blushing bright red.  
  
"Rory!" Lane admonished, her own troubles momentarily forgotten.  
  
"Shhh!" Rory hissed, surveying the diner to make sure that Patty wasn't around. "We didn't go all the way," Rory said quietly, "but..."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Don't tell anyone. I mean," Rory blurted out quickly, "Mom knows and everything, but not everything...do you know what I mean?"  
  
Lane nodded. "I know."  
  
---  
  
Lane and Rory were walking back to the Gilmore's when Rory suddenly stopped. "Oh my god! I've got it!" Rory exclaimed, turning excitedly to her best friend.  
  
"Oh my god! What?" Lane asked, and grinned when Rory scowled at her. "Seriously, what?"  
  
"I don't think I'm going to tell you now," Rory huffed, but the curl at the edge of her mouth gave her away.  
  
"Come on, I'm sorry."  
  
"Okay, I'm thinking...movie night."  
  
"Uh, okay..." Lane said, feeling out of the loop. "Cool. Can we get M&M's?"  
  
"No, I mean with Dave." Rory said smiling like an idiot. "And Jess," she added as an after thought.  
  
"Like a double-date?" Lane asked, doubtfully. Seeing as how the dates she and Dave had had would have been defined as 'band practice' by any major dictionary, she wasn't sure if double-dating is exactly what she had in mind.  
  
"Well, not exactly. Just hanging out." Rory was practically bouncing. "It'll be dark and we'll rent a bunch of good movies and have pizza and you and Jess and Dave can argue about music..."  
  
Rory's infectious behavior was catching. "Oh, it would be fun..." Lane said, debating with herself. "When?"  
  
"What's wrong with tonight?" asked Rory, pulling Lane into Doose's behind her.  
  
"What if he's busy? He is a pretty busy guy."  
  
"Stop inventing excuses!" Rory admonished, piling bags of sugary substances into the basket.  
  
"I guess..." Lane said, twisting her hands together. "Okay. I'll call him."  
  
"Good. Does Dave like licorish?"  
  
---  
  
It was nearly seven. It hadn't been hard convincing Mama Kim to let Lane stay later than usual at the Gilmore's. Well, perhaps only because on Thursday evenings the church held a debate that usually lasted until-  
  
"Ten thirty," Lane told Rory, as she stood in front of her mirror, comparing hair styles. "And it will take Mama at least ten minutes to get her turn to talk to the Reverend, and another seven to get home."  
  
"Lane, I'm trying to brush-"  
  
Lane ignored Rory, "now seeing as it takes three and a half minutes to run from your house to mine, and approximately another three to brush my teeth and say my prayers,"  
  
"Lane!" Rory yelled in a vain attempt to get her attention.  
  
"I should leave at six to eleven. Can I set an alarm or something?"  
  
"If you stop jumping around, you can get it tattooed on your forehead for all I care."  
  
"Sorry," Lane said meekly, and tried to stop fidgeting while undergoing Rory's ministrations. "Rory?"  
  
"Yes Lane?"  
  
"I think...that I might be...well, you know."  
  
"What?" Rory asked, nearly dropping the brush.  
  
"I think I might be...ready."  
  
"Ohh." Rory sat on the edge of her bed. "Huh."  
  
"What do you think?" Lane asked, sitting on the other edge.  
  
"What?" Rory repeated.  
  
"What-"  
  
"I don't know!" Rory exploded and began to pace the room. "Are you sure?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Are you planning to do it tonight?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"So?"  
  
"I don't know..." Lane looked at her hands. "I just..."  
  
Rory sat down again, this time next to Lane.  
  
"Are you mad?" Lane asked, weaving her fingers into Rory's quilt.  
  
"What? No Lane, just...shocked. I didn't think that you had had much time to do...well...that much."  
  
"We haven't," Lane said quickly, and seeing Rory's disbelieving expression, added, "just kissing."  
  
Rory was quiet for a few minutes. Lane watched her nervously, sneaking furtive glances through the corner of her eyes. Lane was shaking, now that she'd said it, wishing she could take it back. Shouldn't she have told Dave first? Should she even be feeling...ready? Lane glanced at Rory again, who was biting her bottom lip delicately. Rory was beautiful when she worried. Actually, she was beautiful when she did anything. Lane had long stopped being envious of Rory, because she knew that it was no contest.  
  
When they were thirteen, Lane had wondered if Rory knew she was beautiful. Up till then, there had been no solid evidence that she knew or even cared. But then there wasn't any evidence that she didn't spend hours every night holed up in her bedroom, brushing her hair and filing her nails. It was puzzling.  
  
"I don't know..." Rory said tentatively, looking at her hands.  
  
"What about you and Jess?" Lane asked, relieved to have finally said it.  
  
Rory was quiet again. "I...I think it's different. I mean, I don't know-" she added hastily, fearing to offend the other girl, "but...when we do things...I always want to do more. When we first started going out, I enjoyed the kissing. Then we started..."  
  
"Undressing each other?" Lane offered helpfully.  
  
Rory blushed. "Yeah. It was never weird. I always wanted him to go a bit farther. For a while we stayed with shirts, but then...I guess we were both comfortable enough for more. I never knew what was going to happen, and I didn't plan out how far we would go or anything...I wasn't uncomfortable though. Everything that has happened...has been perfect."  
  
Lane looked into Rory's face and found nothing but utter sincerity. Lane doubted that she had even told Lorelai this part of her relationship.  
  
"I can't tell you what to do," Rory said, looking up at Lane for the first time since they had begun this thread of conversation, "but...I think when you and Dave delve into the unknown, you'll know."  
  
Now it was Lane's turn to be quiet. "Maybe I'm not ready."  
  
Rory held Lane's hand, examining her smooth nails and curvaceous cuticles. "Maybe you're not. But maybe you are. You'll know."  
  
Lane smiled at Rory, and felt closer to her than she had in years.  
  
---  
  
"Please Lane, calm down." Rory semi-glared at the pacing Korean girl in her living room.  
  
"I can't. This is out first date in Stars Hollow."  
  
"What about those mornings?" Rory asked, having only recently been told about them.  
  
Lane didn't regret confiding in her best friend. She hadn't been lately; different schools and different men pushed them apart. Although she had not realized it at the time, Dean had driven a wedge between the two during the years he had been dating Rory. Her secret rendezvous' with Dave had been special, and Lane had wrongly thought that special meant secret. It had proven true with her mother, and she had no reason to believe otherwise with her best friend.  
  
"Lane, the floors aren't that strong anymore."  
  
"Since when?" Lane asked, before remembering the terminates that had lived in the house.  
  
The living room had been meticulously arranged. The coffee table was littered with bags of candy, bowls of chips (barbeque and salted, Lane hadn't known Dave's favorite kind), tins of chilled soda and a tower of precariously piled movies. The lights were off, and there were blankets and cushions on both the couch and floor. Lane had wanted Belle and Sebastian in the background, but Rory begged off, insisting that Jess would leave.  
  
The pizza had been ordered. Now all there was to do was wait.  
  
Fortunately, Jess arrived before Lane had lost too much hair. Normally, Lane wouldn't have bothered to get up when he arrived, but today she did. Normally, she barely spoke to him, wouldn't have asked if he wanted ice for his drink. If Jess noticed her odd behavior, he didn't mention it.  
  
Rory shot Lane a sympathetic glance half an hour past seven. She was one step away from clawing her eyes out. Jess had put a thorough end to any dialogue a few minutes after he arrived by kissing Rory's neck when the two girls had virtually ignored his attempts at beginning decent conversation.  
  
The pizza arrived, and stayed in its box, stewing in its own juices as Lane stewed in hers. When the doorbell rang, she jumped up, ran to the door, and ran back to the couch, sitting down stubbornly.  
  
"Lane?"  
  
"Yes Rory?" Lane asked, biting into a piece of chocolate.  
  
"That's probably Dave."  
  
"Oh, you think so?"  
  
"Lane." Rory began sternly, breaking away from Jess to look the pining girl directly in her face. "Get the door."  
  
Lane jumped up without a word and reached the door before Dave rang the bell again.  
  
"Lane," Dave said, pulling her to him and kissing her protesting mouth viciously. "Traffic."  
  
"Oh..."Lane replied, as nonchalantly as she could. It was impossible to remain angry with him.  
  
---  
  
Dave was holding Lane, using one hand to eat, the other to keep her pressed close. Not that Lane minded. She was perfectly contented to lean into his chest, to inhale his scent. His Dave scent. She had only eaten one piece of pizza, because the now third near-empty box was too far for her to reach without disentangling herself from her boyfriend. From her magnificent, amazing, beautiful boyfriend. Jess and Rory were on the floor, half on a blanket, half under one. Jess was whispering something funny into Rory's ear, and she laughed without taking her eyes off the screen. It seemed that Dave wasn't the only one who was watching the second movie of the night. Lane and Jess had more in common than she had realized. She felt like an idiot, assuming she knew Jess, when really she had only assumed.  
  
Lane tried to draw her attention back to the movie, tried to stem the flow of thoughts through her over-active head.  
  
"Lane..."Dave whispered, taking her soda out of her hand. "Come on."  
  
Once on the porch, Dave pressed Lane against the fence and opened her mouth urgently with his tongue, sending chills down her spine. He only stopped when he had run out of air. "Lane..." he said, pressing his forehead against hers. "I've been wanting to do that all evening."  
  
Lane replied, smiling coyly, "So have I."  
  
Dave took Lane's hand again and led her down the front steps and around the house.  
  
"What are we...?" Lane asked, when he let go and pulled his keys out of his pockets.  
  
"You'll see..."  
  
Lane watched as his perfect, calloused hands found the key, turned the lock, opened the door, ushered her inside. Dave pulled the fabric that kept Lane's presence secret off the lone window; The light from a lamp post pooled on an empty guitar rack. He didn't turn on the lights, but pulled Lane down next to him onto one of the large costume cases that lined one wall.  
  
"Hi."  
  
Lane looked down at their hands that molded so perfectly together. Would she and Dave be a perfect fit also?  
  
"Penny for your thoughts," Dave said.  
  
Rather than replying, Lane turned and kissed him steadily, somehow managed to trap herself between a case and a boy.  
  
"Hi..." Dave said again, and kissed her neck.  
  
"Dave..." Lane started, half breathy sigh, half tone.  
  
Dave sat up, much to Lane's surprise. "I'm sorry."  
  
"What?" Lane asked bewildered, sitting up also. Did he want this?  
  
"I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry." Dave was saying, in his best 'Mama- Kim-Please-Like-Me-Voice' as Lane's head swam. He didn't want her. He didn't want her. She had thrown herself at him, and here he was, saying that he didn't want her.  
  
"Yeah, you shouldn't have," Lane responded angrily.  
  
"Lane...I," Dave started, his voice cracking with unshed emotion. "I...I didn't mean to get carried away like that. I just...I just really-"  
  
Lane understood. He didn't want to stop. Lane could have cheered. Dave was utterly perfect.  
  
"Close the door," she said, and when he had complied and sat next to her again, she pulled off her shirt, letting it drop onto the floor. She felt, rather than heard, Dave's intake of breathe, and smiled to herself. Lane tugged Dave's cardigan over his head and unbuttoned his shirt quickly.  
  
Tentatively, Dave ran his hands over Lane's naked shoulders, down her arms. He leaned forward, kissed her face, her chin, down her neck, over her collarbones. Nervously, Lane ran her fingers over Dave's chest.  
  
"Dave..." she whispered, even though they were alone.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I don't really know what to do," Lane admitted, glad the lack of light hid most of her embarrassment.  
  
"Neither..." Dave said, kissing her again. He wasn't sure of himself now that clothes were off. "Lane, I've never done this before."  
  
"Me neither," Lane replied.  
  
"Really?" Dave joked, "I had no idea."  
  
Lane lightly smacked his arm, and moaned when his lips descended onto her skin again.  
  
"Is this okay?" Dave asked.  
  
Lane nodded, and smiled into her his shoulder as he tried to remove her bra. "Have you done this before?" she asked.  
  
"What, you can't tell?" Dave said, still fumbling with the clasp. "I thought I was so suave."  
  
"Dave, it's a serious question."  
  
Dave finally succeeded. "No, I never have. You're my first girlfriend."  
  
Lane sat up. "What? Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes, I'm sure you're my first girlfriend...?" Dave replied, not sure whether to be relieved when Lane kissed him, or not. "Is that so surprising?"  
  
"Very." Lane was elated. Hesitantly, she kissed his chest, ran her tongue over one nipple. Dave groaned deep in his throat. Bolder, she did it again, nibbled, kissed. Dave uncertainly touched her breast, ran his fingers down her body. So this is why Rory did it. It was certainly worth the fuss.  
  
---  
  
Every three weeks, Lane and her mother took the bus out to Hartford, on a special trip to a Chinese warehouse. Inside were so many gadgets and trinkets in a huge maze of bins and shelves, that if you put down something and forgot to pick it up, a shopping list perhaps, you would never see it again. Lane had been eight when such an event had occurred. It was a week until Rory's birthday, and Lane had managed to escape the constant watch of her mother. Later, she would explain that she had gotten lost while trying to keep up. It took a while for her to find what she was looking for. It was a hand bound notebook with pressed flowers in the cover. It only cost a few dollars, and Lane had been saving up. She clutched it to her chest, went to the checkout, and once she had bought it, stuck it under her shirt so that her mother wouldn't notice. 'Where were you Lane?' Mama Kim had asked when Lane returned to her side. 'We must go. Bus leaves in ten minutes.' Lane's mother took her hand and dragged her along, stopping only to take half a dozen bars of the only soap that had always been, and always would be, the soap of the Kim household. That was when the book slipped noiselessly from under Lane's shirt. Her mother didn't notice, and Lane hadn't had time to pick it up before being dragged off again. Lane couldn't bare to leave it, and slipped off again, but couldn't find the aisle where she had dropped it. The soap had forever afterward symbolized the hold her mother had over her. She couldn't even tell her she was buying her best friend a notebook. It was the smell of oppression. Lane never forgot.  
  
---  
  
"You smell nice," Dave breathed into her ear, nibbling it.  
  
Lane had forgotten how to speak. Both she and Dave were surer of themselves. Inside the house, Rory and Jess were probably doing the same thing as she and Dave were. Lane understood what Rory had meant. She was comfortable being with Dave, and she knew that soon she would want to do more- but for now, this was enough.  
  
Dave held her hand as they walked up to the house. Lane was beaming, her whole world fitting into place. They sat on the steps, so close that their hips were touching.  
  
"Hey, I've been meaning to give these to you," he said, pulling an envelope out of his back pocket. "Here."  
  
Lane peered inside. "Did you take these?" she asked, pulling out a stack of photographs. "Dave..." she said, flipping though. "What...?"  
  
"It's my room. You said you wanted to know what it looked like."  
  
Lane didn't reply, so intent on her studying of the small pieces of paper. Dave kissed her neck, her ears, her face. Lane wouldn't be distracted.  
  
"Dave..." she whispered, turning to him for the first time since she had gotten the packet. "This is amazing."  
  
"Yeah, well..." Dave replied, embarrassed. "You know what a nut Brian is for photography. I bought a few rolls of film for him in exchange for an hour of his valuable time. He insisted on the black and white ones."  
  
"I can't believe you did this for me..."Lane said, looking again at the stack of pictures.  
  
"Well, I didn't think that Mama Kim would let you come over to see my room anytime soon, so..."  
  
"I mean it," Lane said, turning to face Dave, "I love them. I-"  
  
"Lane, I love you," Dave said.  
  
The world stopped. Stopped. Stopped.  
  
"What?" Lane asked, sure she had misunderstood. Positive.  
  
"I love you."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Dave didn't bother hiding the hurt look on his face. "What happened in there, was special. Really special. I- I thought that maybe you might have, liked me too, or something, I-" Dave stood up, walked a few steps away from a gaping Lane. "I didn't think that-"  
  
"Dave," Lane said, standing up also, the photographs forgotten on the steps. Dave stopped talking, stopped looking at Lane. Carefully, she took his hands in hers, let him feel the shaking. "Dave, I wouldn't have let you do that unless I cared about you. A lot."  
  
"I know," Dave replied, not letting go.  
  
"I wasn't expecting that, I'll admit."  
  
"What happened back there, or what I said?" Dave asked, still not looking at her.  
  
"Both."  
  
"And do you regret either?" he whispered.  
  
Lane smiled. "No."  
  
Dave looked up at Lane, pulling her into his arms.  
  
"I love you Dave." Dave's answer was to press himself against her, and kiss her like there was no tomorrow.  
  
---  
  
Which there was, unfortunate for any party who had naively wished the night to last forever. Lane was sitting on her bed, flipping through the photographs for the umpteenth time. She had memorized the posters on his walls, where his guitar stand stood, what his bed looked like. After a several lost attempts to concentrate, Lane began imagining scenarios with Dave. Band practices. Concerts. Dates. Having him do what he did to her in the garage, more.  
  
They hadn't had any opportunity to repeat what had happened. The windowsill wasn't exactly an ideal location. She envied Rory more and more. Even though Lorelai probably wasn't ecstatic at having her only daughter reproduce with the town hoodlum, at least she was supportive.  
  
Lane tried to imagine asking her mother to take her to the gynecologist to get a subscription for the pill. It was laughable. She would be shipped to Korea for sure. Luckily, there was still time yet before any such preventions would be necessary.  
  
Lane glanced at her watch, glad to be able to finally leave. "Mama?" she called, from the stairs.  
  
"Lane?"  
  
"On the stairs!" Lane waited for her mother to find her.  
  
"Yes, what is it? I've very busy."  
  
"Can I go out for a while? I think I need a walk."  
  
Lane's mother thought about it. "Yes, I suppose so. Exercise is necessary. Do not talk to anyone."  
  
"Yes Mama."  
  
"Take a sweater."  
  
"I've already got one," Lane said, holding up a cardigan.  
  
"Put it on. I need you to make the salad tonight. Chu's are coming over tonight. Do not be late."  
  
"Okay Mama. Bye."  
  
---  
  
Lane took off the sweater the moment she was out of sight. She looked at her watch again. She would just be on time. Lane arrived practically skipping to her secret rendezvous spot with Dave. He was already sitting at the picnic table, looking at some sheet music.  
  
"Hi," Lane said, sitting down next to him.  
  
"Hi, I didn't see you there," Dave replied, abandoning the music immediately.  
  
"What have you got-" Lane started to ask, but was cut off by a particularly long kiss.  
  
"I've been wanting to do that-"Dave started.  
  
"Since Thursday..." Lane finished for him. "Me too. Where can we go?"  
  
"What's wrong with here?" Dave asked, standing up when Lane did.  
  
Lane just looked at her seemingly-naive boyfriend.  
  
"Ahh." Dave picked up his papers and put them in his pocket. "How about the woods?"  
  
"Do we have any choice?" Lane asked, tugging him along behind her. Dave chuckled, and Lane shot him a glare. "This is you're fault you know," Lane said, once they reached a spot she deemed private enough.  
  
"And how is that?" Dave asked, while pulling off Lane's shirt.  
  
"You're the one who makes me want to do this." Lane pulled Dave down and leaned over him.  
  
That was the end to any conversation. This time was less hesitant. Lane had been right before. They were a perfect fit.  
  
---  
  
"So, was that good for you?" Dave asked jokingly, curling his arm possessively around Lane. The two were lying on the ground, still panting slightly.  
  
"I wish we didn't have to stop," Lane said, sitting up to put on her shirt again.  
  
"I wish you didn't have to do that."  
  
Lane smiled at Dave and lay down again, her head on his arm. "I do too. But I still have a while before I have to go home..." she said suggestively, tracing a pattern down his naked chest. Dave groaned. "Look what I did..." Lane said, touching the marks she had given him tenderly.  
  
"I like them."  
  
"And I have some too," she said, pulling up her shirt to show him. "Thanks for the strategic placement, by the way."  
  
"No problem," Dave replied, pulling her closer to him. Lane continued her tracing abstractly.  
  
"You're really beautiful."  
  
"Yeah, I'm a regular Brad Pitt."  
  
"I'm serious...you're so...you."  
  
Dave kissed her forehead. "That's a good thing, right?"  
  
"Definitely."  
  
"So you don't care that I don't have a six pack?"  
  
"Not at all," Lane replied and smiled into his chest.  
  
"Because I could start body-building if you want me to," Dave said, trying to keep a straight face but failing.  
  
"Have you ever considered getting a tattoo?" Lane asked.  
  
"Yeah. A big heart that says Lane in the middle."  
  
"Good."  
  
"How much time do we have left?" Dave asked.  
  
"Just enough..."Lane said, swinging her leg over his body, "...for this."  
  
Dave immediately forgot the twigs and stones biting into his bare back when Lane straddled him. He forgot that he should have been talking to her about an idea he had for the band when she began kissing down his chest, stopping to tease his nipples with her tongue. He forgot were they were when she continued her way down, stopping only at the waistline of his jeans.  
  
Lane slid a bit farther down his legs, and hastily unbuttoned his pants.  
  
This brought Dave back. He sat up immediately. "Lane! What are you doing?"  
  
Lane blinked, "I thought that was obvious."  
  
"No. You can't." Dave said immediately, doing up the buttons again and immediately regretting his tone. "I mean, not here, not now."  
  
"But I want to!" Lane practically whined.  
  
Dave kissed her lightly, and began picking twigs out of her hair. "I want you to, but..."  
  
"Not here, not now. I don't know what came over me..."  
  
Dave nodded. "Exactly." Somehow he stood up. "Come on, I'll walk you home."  
  
Lane merely nodded.  
  
---  
  
It was much later that evening. As a dutiful daughter, Lane had prepared the salad, conversed with the guests, washed the dishes. Now she had no distractions. She didn't want to phone Rory, couldn't risk Mama Kim overhearing. There was only one person who knew what events had transpired, and he was the one Lane decided to call.  
  
Stealthily, Lane took the phone from the receiver, crept into her bedroom. Quietly, she closed the door, dialed the number.  
  
"Hello?" Dave answered, the Hollies blaring in the background.  
  
"It's me," Lane whispered. "I didn't know that the Hollies could be so..."  
  
"Over-powering?" Dave supplied, and the volume went down. "It certainly needs a ten."  
  
Lane laughed. "So, about today..."  
  
"About today."  
  
"Yeah...that was nice."  
  
Dave paused. "Is your mother there?"  
  
"Am I allowed on the phone after nine?"  
  
"Good point. Well, just in case she's listening in..." Lane shivered. "I'm kind of sorry that I, uh, stopped you."  
  
Lane grinned. "Me too. Maybe next time."  
  
"Definitely," Dave replied, smiling on the other end.  
  
"Dave?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I love you."  
  
"It hurts, doesn't it."  
  
"Yes," Lane conceded, cradling the phone against her shoulder while she hunted through her hidden cd's.  
  
"I know. I want to be there, with you."  
  
"I want you too be here too," Lane replied, pulling out a case. "Try Chicago. It helps."  
  
She could hear Dave shuffling through piles of cd's. Suddenly, the Hollies stopped, only to be replaced with her former suggestion.  
  
"Yeah," Dave said, after a few quiet moments. "It does help. I've been using Lou Reed."  
  
"Post Velvet Underground?" she asked, settling down on her bed again.  
  
"Not entirely."  
  
Lane closed her eyes, picturing their afternoon together. "Good night, Dave."  
  
"Good night Lane," Dave said, and held the phone to his ear long after the click and dial tone.  
  
--- 


	2. Chapter Two

Readers:  
  
This second chapter was never meant to exist. It was never my intention to continue the story, but a combination of insightful reviews and a sleepless night prompted me to think further. I hope it stands up to what you are expecting. Tell me what you think.  
  
With all due respect,  
  
authors-anonymous  
  
---  
  
Lane was sitting cross-legged on a costume case in the Gilmore-garage gone rehearsal-space. Brian and Zack were arguing about the members of the original Sex Pistols ("Before they became the Pistols-" Zack was saying. "Before they became the Pistols they weren't the Pistols. The 101'ers-" Brian argued.). Dave had wisely decided to stay out of it. He was leaning against a wall, tuning his guitar.  
  
"No way man!" Zack said, standing up. "The 101'ers got their name-"  
  
Brian also stood up. "No-"  
  
"Guys!" Dave yelled, putting down his guitar. They looked at him. "Let's quit while we're ahead. Right. We played a good set today- good downbeats Lane," he added shooting her a glance, "but we need to work on 'Anarchy'. It's sloppy."  
  
Zack started to say something, undoubtedly about who originally wrote it, but Dave interrupted him. "So, next Thursday, three thirty."  
  
The band began packing up, but both Lane and Dave hung back.  
  
"Hi," Dave said, after closing the door securely, with Brian and Zack on the other side.  
  
"So, my downbeats were good?" Lane joked, pulling him down next to her. "How about-" Dave cut her off with a long kiss. "So, good?"  
  
"Very." Dave wrapped his arms around Lane and pulled her into his chest. Somberly he brushed her hair behind her ears, placed feathery kisses on her head and neck.  
  
"Dave?"  
  
"Mmmhmm?" he asked, still gently caressing her.  
  
"What is it?" Lane turned to look at him. He didn't look at her, but allowed her to take his hands in hers and drape her leg over his. Dave was silent. "Dave?"  
  
When he finally began to speak, it wasn't in his usual good-humored tone. Flatly, he replied, "Today is the anniversary of Marky's death."  
  
Lane jerked. "What?" Then quietly she asked, "Who was Marky?"  
  
She hadn't really expected him to answer. Dave looked into her eyes, gripped her hands tighter, pulled her towards him. "Marky," he said, "was my brother."  
  
"Oh..." was all Lane could think to say. Dave grinned at her humorlessly.  
  
"Yeah. Four years ago, today. He..." Dave blinked. "...killed himself. In our bedroom." His voice cracked, and Lane wrapped her arms around him. "He was really quiet about it too. I was in the shower."  
  
"Why?" Lane asked, looking into Dave's anguished face.  
  
"Mom and Dad...my parents...they had told him that they couldn't afford for him to keep having music lessons." Dave was no longer looking at Lane, his eyes unfocused, remembering. "We were having dinner, and they just said it. He stormed off upstairs. I was still a kid, then. Marky was two years older than me."  
  
Lane didn't say anything, nuzzled into him.  
  
"Music was his life. He had a bass guitar signed by John Cale. It took him two years to save up for it. Birthday money and Christmas money and allowances and everything. He loved it." Dave was absently fingering 'Stephanie Says', still unfocused. "He played everything. Bass, guitar, drums, flute. Violin, clarinet. He was an amazing guitarist. Taught himself. He used to spend hours in this music store on Main Street, just watching these old guys playing around."  
  
"He sounds like a great guy," Lane whispered.  
  
"Oh, he was. He was going to get into some music school on the coast, no questions asked. It's really stupid," Dave said, a few tears running down his face into Lane's hair, "but I guess...I guess that he didn't think he could do it without lessons. He'd just gotten a new teacher, some guy who knew his stuff. Four hour lesson a week. Five hundred a month. Mom had just lost her job too. There wasn't five hundred extra dollars a month." Dave was now fully crying. "Lane, he was a genius. He knew everything. He taught me how to play, how to sing. He was just lying there, on the carpet. You couldn't even tell, there wasn't any blood."  
  
Lane was crying now too. "How did he do it?"  
  
"He stabbed himself in the chest. What did the doctors say? Twelve times? I don't remember. A lot. He wouldn't have done it if he could have had lessons."  
  
"Dave, that isn't true. There must have been something else."  
  
Dave swallowed, shuddered against Lane. "They buried him with his guitar. The one signed by John Cale. They weren't going too, but I convinced them."  
  
Something occurred to Lane. "Those pictures-"  
  
"Are from the new house," Dave explained, rubbing her arms. "We moved. My parents...I couldn't..."  
  
It was Lane's turn to place kisses on his face and hair. Both had stopped crying. Somehow Lane had managed to straddle Dave without thinking about it, and was pressed down against him. Dave wound his fingers through her hair, pressing her face down into his. Urgently, he opened her mouth, and she responded, caressing him with her tongue. He moved his hands up her shirt, quickly unfastening her bra. Without taking off her shirt, he ran his fingers over her breasts, rolled her nipples between calloused fingers, moved his mouth down to her neck.  
  
As suddenly as he had started, he stopped. Dave wrapped his arms around her, pressed his mouth to her ear and whispered things about Marky. How his mother was always threatening to cut his hair. What his favorite CDs were. How his parents were planning to surprise him with a record player for his seventeenth birthday.  
  
---  
  
"Lane!" Mrs. Kim called up the stairs.  
  
"Yes Mama?" her daughter responded, coming out of her room.  
  
"I need you to-" Mama Kim stopped short. "Why are you not dressed yet? It is five. Your dress is in your room."  
  
"Mama, I don't feel so well."  
  
"Fine. You will sit down with me. Lesley will help with the-"  
  
"Mama, I really don't-" Lane tried again.  
  
"Nonsense. You are young, healthy. Go put on your dress."  
  
Lane watched her mother hurry away. Angrily, she went into her room, picked up the hideous green velveteen invention her mother had put over her chair. Puffed sleeves, big bows. Hideous.  
  
Disgusted, Lane picked up the phone and dialed Dave's well rehearsed numbers. It rang eleven times before the answering machine picked up. Lane dejectedly dropped the phone on the bed and pressed her forehead against the window. Yet another Kim household event. The cars were already parking up the street. Taylor had long stopped trying to ban the influx of relatives. Mrs. Kim was frightening when provoked.  
  
Lane lay down on her bed, closed her eyes. 'Where were you Lane?' her mother had asked when she arrived home fifteen minutes late the day before. 'Well Mama, I was comforting my boyfriend. See, his brother died. We were talking, and one thing led to another. We were lying on the garage floor when I realized that I was late.' Lane smiled. 'Dave was wearing boxers with accordions on them. You never let me buy pretty panties. He didn't see them yesterday, but when he does, I'm sure he'll notice how white they are.'  
  
Chatter from downstairs drifted up. Her aunts and uncles, grandparents, cousins, sisters-in-laws. Insistent chatter, breaking down language barriers.  
  
'He's not a doctor Mama. He's not Korean. But I love him anyway, and he loves me. He makes me so happy Mama. I think we might try to go to the same university. His family doesn't have very much money, but he had a part- time job for a few years, so he's saved up quite a lot. He's really smart, Mama. He might even get a music scholarship. And our band is getting really good. What, you didn't know I was in a rock band Mama? Well I am. What do I play? The drums. They're red. I'm still paying them off, but one day they'll be mine. Yes Mama, I really love him. I might even sleep with him. No Mama, it's not a sin, not if I love him it isn't.'  
  
"Lane!"  
  
Sighing, Lane picked up the dress and replied loudly, "Coming Mama!" Zipping up the back, she quietly added, "But not for long."  
  
---  
  
If there was one thing Lane Kim excelled at, it was plotting. She had learned the skill at an early age, perhaps birth or earlier. Since then she had honed her skills with delicate precision, or she wouldn't have emerged from the womb in such a timely and painless manner. She actually didn't know if had been painless, but Lorelai was constantly complaining about labour, and Lane had never heard her mother even say the word. But then, Mama Kim and Lorelai were worlds apart.  
  
This plot was the plot of all plots. It was more than a simple house- arrest break out or a forbidden compact disk smuggling scheme. This was deceit, pure and simple. Lane needed to escape her Mother's vigilant radar for twenty four hours. Lane had long stopped depending on divine forces to achieve her ends. Experience and misfortune had long ago taught her that the elements were not her friends. Somehow, last night that plan had been inconceivable; now, tangible.  
  
The question had been: How can I not come home for one night? The answer: A well timed walk. The plot: To convince Mrs. Kim to let Lane go on an overnight trip to New York. The scheme: A religious ad, 'Missionary work in the Slums of New York City: Volunteer and Soul-Save.' The twist: Lane would stay at Dave's.  
  
It was a golden opportunity that Lane couldn't, and wouldn't, be persuaded by any means to pass up. She had walked past the church, the weathered bulletin board boasting no new adds save one- the said pamphlet. Complete with a phone number for questions, a free breakfast and a nights lodging in one of NYC's own homeless shelters, the two day retreat was a stroke of good fortune. Mama Kim would surely take the bait. She had too.  
  
"Mama?" Lane asked, much later that evening.  
  
Mrs. Kim looked up from her synthetic dinner preparations. "What?"  
  
"Um, I found this program on the Church bulletin board today," Lane began, pulling out a copy from her back pocket. "It's a religious retreat."  
  
Lane's mother had bitten. "Where?"  
  
"New York City," Lane said, and quickly added, "It's a volunteer program that feeds the homeless and helps them find God."  
  
"Find God? In New York?" she sounded skeptical.  
  
"Oh, yeah Mama!" Lane said, feigning enthusiasm, "the volunteers stay at a shelter for a night, feed the homeless, and preach." Well, Lane assumed they would preach, the brochure hadn't actually specified what they would do after the feeding.  
  
"Overnight?" Lane's Mother repeated, aghast. She put down the grater. "Let me see that." With her usual methodical quickness, she skimmed the paper, frowned, and handed it back to her daughter. "We'll see."  
  
---  
  
"I am a genius!" Lane said, when Dave arrived early the next morning. She didn't even give him time to kiss her before launching into her plan.  
  
Dave was slightly taken aback. "Isn't that a bit complicated?"  
  
"What's complicated about it?" Lane asked, taking his hand in hers. "The bus leaves from Hartford on Friday afternoon and arrives back Saturday evening. I gave them the wrong telephone number in case they decide to call to see where I am."  
  
"But Ling?" Dave asked.  
  
"Ling Kim. Just in case. Besides, would someone who wrote down a telephone number with a few misplaced digits necessarily get the name of a volunteer right?"  
  
"Wouldn't it have been easier to say you were staying at Rory's?"  
  
"I'm not allowed to stay overnight. I mean," she continued, pulling the blanket tighter around her, "I did once, for Rory's twelfth birthday, but Lorelai had to plead with Mama first. Even then, she still phoned every half hour and stopped by twice."  
  
Dave turned Lane's head and kissed her. "You are a genius."  
  
Lane smirked. "I know."  
  
"Maybe I'm on the slower side, but would you mind filling me in on something?"  
  
"What?" Lane asked, looking up at him.  
  
"What do you intend to do during your absence?"  
  
"Oh, well, I was-" Lane stopped.  
  
"You were...?" Dave prompted.  
  
Lane broke his gaze and looked down. Swallowed. Took a breath. Said, "I was planning to stay with you."  
  
It was Dave's turn to look down. "Huh," he said after a moment.  
  
"I guess I didn't really think this through," Lane said quietly. "I didn't even tell you, or ask, or- I can cancel," she said quickly. "I'll phone in the morning." Dave didn't respond, and Lane's heart sank. "Yeah, in the morning. First thing. Eight o'clock."  
  
"Well, you could," Dave said, "...but wouldn't Ling be upset?"  
  
Lane looked up hopeful. "Well, she did have her heart set on it."  
  
Dave kissed Lane, brushed a stray hair behind her ear. He stood up and swung himself nimbly onto the tree, like he had done so many times before. "Mom, Dad, this is Lane. She's in the band. She needs a place to crash tonight, is that okay? 'Oh, of course sweetheart!'" Dave said in a slightly higher voice. "'Is everything alright Lane? Are you in trouble?' No Mom, Lane's parents just went out of town this weekend and she was going to stay with someone else, but something came up. Her mother didn't want her to stay alone in the house, so... 'Oh, it's no problem at all Lane! The guest bedroom is all made up. Do you like one pillow or two?'"  
  
It went off almost as Dave had said. With one convenient, unlikely, and morbid twist.  
  
---  
  
Lane was sitting on Dave's bed, absently strumming his guitar. Around her was a growing pile of CD's, and a scrambling Dave, muttering about his lack of organization. There was a timid knock on the door.  
  
"Dave?"  
  
"Uh, come in!" Dave called, his voice muffled from his close proximity to the floor.  
  
His decidedly non-militant mother opened the door. "Dave, there's an emergency, I have to go to the hospital."  
  
"What?" he asked, sitting up.  
  
"Emily was just admitted. I'm sorry, I don't mean to dessert you, but your Father is going to drive me down, we'll be gone for most of tonight-" on she spoke, of travel arrangements and cold casseroles. Lane squeezed herself against the wall. Unbidden, she had conjured up a vision of her Mother, sitting at the kitchen counter, the pamphlet squeezed between two clenched fists, white from anger. 'We don't have a Lane Kim registered, but we do have a Ling, and she never arrived.'  
  
"It's a sign," she confided in Dave after his weepy mother had left.  
  
"What is?"  
  
"This!" Lane said, waving her hands around vaguely. "I'm being punished."  
  
Dave pulled Lane into his embrace. "Emily was our neighbor at the old house. Her family lives in Canada, so we're the closest she has."  
  
"What's wrong with her?" Lane whispered.  
  
"She slipped in the kitchen and broke her hip. The hospital phoned."  
  
"So, she'll be okay?" Lane asked.  
  
"Yeah. She'll be fine." Dave tipped Lane's head up gently and pressed his lips to hers. Happier now, Lane bit his lower lip gently, moaned when he began to unbutton her shirt.  
  
"You are the most beautiful girl in the world..." Dave whispered into her ear.  
  
"You're not so bad yourself," Lane responded, gasping when he bit down on her neck.  
  
Somewhere in the process of displaying her increasing love for him, Lane had managed to discard both of their shirts and her pants, unbuttoning his. "Oh, Dave!" she moaned loudly, when he ran his fingers up her legs, stopping briefly at the junction.  
  
"I love you Lane," Dave panted, kissing her swollen lips. Grinning, Lane rolled them over, taking command.  
  
Dave chuckled at the determined look on her face. "You look like you're about to invade France."  
  
"Shut up Dave," she said, running her hands over his chest and down to his waist line. With deftness that surprised even her, she began to pull down his remaining garments.  
  
"Lane..." he said warily.  
  
"Dave..." she mimicked, not stopping the task at hand.  
  
"Lane," he said sharply, grasping her hands. Startled, she looked up. "We should probably, uh, go get some dinner."  
  
Without a word, Lane stood, grabbed her clothes from the floor. She mumbled something, left the room.  
  
"Fuck," said Dave, putting his head in his hands. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."  
  
---  
  
They were sitting in a booth at a nameless cafe. Dave was having a one- sided conversation while Lane sat practically mute, chewing silently on her noodles. Dave wasn't eating.  
  
She had staying in the bathroom for nearly an hour, mulling. She had been rejected. From what she had gathered from teenage movies, she was the one who was supposed to stop any sexual activity.  
  
She had sat on the rim of the bathtub, crying for a good half hour. Dave had the decency not to knock on the door, not to persuade her emergence. Lane looked into the mirror. Her hair was mussed, her lips bruised, her body scratched and marked. By him. It was enough to provoke another crying bout.  
  
On his bed, Dave could hear his girlfriend crying, but instinctively knew that she would resent him even more if he tried to comfort her. It was horrible, like seeing a kitten getting hit by a car, or finding a dead rat in the bottom of a newly finished cereal box. Dave wanted to throw up.  
  
When she came out, Dave could clearly see her red eyes. They drove for a few minutes, parked at the first restaurant they passed, and were now silent. Silently, Dave motioned for the bill. He silently paid for the both of them. A small tip, nothing much was ordered. He took the leftovers he was offered, said thank you. Lane didn't even look up. Silently, the two got in the car. Silently, drove home. Silently sat, staring at the television. Silence.  
  
Eventually, Dave turned to Lane. "Lane, I-"  
  
"I don't really feel like talking Dave. Actually, I'm kind of tired. I'm going to go to bed, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, she walked out of the room. Dave sighed, turned off the television.  
  
"Lane," he said again, standing in the doorway of the guest bedroom where Lane was pulling things out of her bag. "You don't need to stay here."  
  
"And what should I do?" Lane asked, turning around angrily. "Go home? Stay in a motel?"  
  
"I meant in this room. Take my bedroom."  
  
Lane turned back to her backpack. "No thank you, I'm fine here."  
  
Dave walked over, picked up her bag, walked over to his bed, put it down. "Much better."  
  
Lane was leaning against the doorframe. "What about you?" she asked, in spite of herself.  
  
"I've got it covered," he said, closing the door behind him. Lane got into her pajamas, making her bags as neat as possible. Despite better intentions, she started to cry again. This was horrible. She had ruined everything.  
  
---  
  
Dave's mother had phoned. They were going to stay overnight at the hospital. Dave came with two mugs of hot chocolate and sat on the bed next to her, not touching. When he had put on Chicago, Lane hadn't missed the symbolism.  
  
"So, ready for bed?" Dave asked, feigning a yawn.  
  
"Sure," Lane replied, tugging on her sleeve absently.  
  
Dave stood up. "I'll be right back."  
  
Lane started. He hadn't meant-, but he had said-. It just didn't make sense. Dave returned, carrying a rolled up sleeping bag. He untied the straps, rolled it out. Lane watched him, clad only in boxers and a Rolling Stones t-shirt, climb in, turn out the light. She lay under his covers, inhaling him.  
  
Dave knew that she wasn't sleeping. It wouldn't have been possible, under the conditions. He had been planning to stay in the guestroom, but on impulse changed his mind. His eyes were adjusting to the dark. Her neatly folded clothes became visible on his chair. Pants, shirt, bra, socks. His own clothes were still in the bathroom, where he had left them.  
  
Lane slipped out of bed. Dave didn't move. Quietly, she walked over to his CD player, where he hadn't yet bothered to remove Chicago. It was softly playing when she lay down next to Dave.  
  
"Dave?" she whispered. His arm slipped around her, but he didn't say anything. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin everything."  
  
Dave looked over at her. "I know." He kissed her eyelids softly, taking his time. When she opened her eyes, he looked into them. "Come here," he said, smiling. Lane also smiled, and slid into the sleeping bag. They intertwined, his arms around her, her head on his chest and leg over his.  
  
"Goodnight Ling," Dave whispered, before falling asleep. 


	3. Chapter Three

Readers:  
  
My condolences for the extraordinarily long wait. "Things" are indeed abundant on this side of the woods. The reviews have been an incredible perk. In response to a review about the music that Dave and Lane listen to, I am inclined to disagree; I don't think that either limit their collections to only influential musicians - groups like the Hollies and Chicago were both one hit wonders, but need not be dismissed as useless or unlistenable. Of course, to each one his own. I expect this chapter will be the last, but then again, I haven't written it yet.  
  
With all due respect,  
  
authors-anonymous  
  
p.s. A VERY important note: This chapter contains more "adult" subject. If you're not comfortable with that...  
  
Another post note: I recommend listening to the Beatles while reading (the 'love songs' would be best, but 'Beatles 1' would suffice)  
  
Sorry, last one: So, I just finished writing, and I'm not sure if I am entirely happy with it. Now the question is: are you?  
  
---  
  
Dave carefully drove through Stars Hollow, weaving his station wagon around people who flooded the streets, heedless of the traffic. Huge baskets overflowing with chocolate on long tables with pink tablecloths lined the streets, massive papier-mâché rabbits hung from light posts and pink and yellow ribbons were tied on every tree branch. Somewhere from the gazebo, Taylor was bellowing instructions.  
  
"What's going on?" he asked, upon arriving at the Gilmore house. He didn't bother knocking anymore, knew that the downstairs bathroom door stuck unless you were forceful and that anything eaten from the fridge was always at your own risk.  
  
There were bags and bags of chocolates - on the couch, the floor, the coffee table, the mantle, lining the stairs. Lorelai had obviously begun the festivities early. Lorelai danced in, hands full of chocolates in colourful wrappers. "New festival, invented by yours truly!" she sang happily, stuffing chocolates into her mouth as she skipped around the room. "Lane's in the garage, by the way," she added, and ran back into the kitchen, emerging a minute later with a bowl full of candy. "For you guys!" she explained to Dave, and needlessly added, "in case you get hungry!"  
  
The phone rang and Lorelai nearly jumped over the couch to get it. "Whoa! Too much sugar!" she giggled, and drunkenly slurred greetings into the phone. Dave adjusted his hold on his guitar case and wondered if it was alright to leave her alone with a virtually unlimited supply of chocolate.  
  
---  
  
"Hey there," he said, setting down his guitar, walking over to her. Lane stopped mid-hit and jumped up.  
  
"Bless you! You brought chocolate!"  
  
"Care to fill me in?" Dave asked, watching Lane's mouth as she licked her lips. He kicked the door closed, tilted her head up, kissed her.  
  
"New festival," she said between kisses. "After-Easter-chocolate- festival...it was Lorelai's idea."  
  
Dave broke away from her, "I thought you just had an Easter festival?"  
  
"Easter slash Passover please. Here in Stars Hollow, we're very welcoming," Lane scolded, grinning up at him. Dave dipped his head to kiss her neck.  
  
"So Lorelai felt bad for at the Easter chocolate that wasn't bought and decided that we should honor it with a festival?"  
  
"Close enough," Lane replied, and pulled him closer. "Basically she wanted an excuse to buy chocolate at a discount price."  
  
"Did she really need an excuse?" Dave asked, pressing Lane against the wall, pressing his lips hard against hers. Lane moaned, ran her hands up his shirt. "We don't have time," he said, pulling away regretfully.  
  
"Yeah we do," Lane wielded, pressing up against Dave again, running her fingernails down his back.  
  
He groaned into her mouth. "The guys will be here any minute," he said, creating distance.  
  
Lane looked up at him. "I love you." Dave, grinning, tossed her a chocolate, and popped one into his own mouth.  
  
---  
  
Lane was lying on Rory's bed, Bright Eyes playing softly from her speakers. Rory was out with Jess; she hated Bright Eyes. So did Lorelai, and Lorelai was at Luke's. Mama Kim had never heard it, for obvious reasons.  
  
There were thoughts, sometimes, that filtered into Lane's head. Like running away. Becoming vegan. Converting to Judaism. Dave had said something earlier, about college. How he was thinking of taking one class a week at the music academy. He could go into a trade, he said, work on a construction site. He didn't want too, but the helpless feelings had overcome him, and he applied for a job, starting in September.  
  
When Lane told Rory, she hadn't understood. Patiently she had told her ivy- bound friend that music wasn't tangible enough. That was Dave's explanation. Lane was merely mimicking. There was no bread in music, no clothes, no rent, no sleep. He could do it, he said, because they were hiring construction guys all the time. Union wages, four days a week.  
  
What could Lane do? She wondered, and the walls began to press into her sides, the ceiling and floor sandwiching her. There would be no hammers in her future, and perhaps no music either.  
  
The phone was ringing, she noticed now. Lane made no attempt to move, and the machine picked it up. Lorelai's voice filtered into the room. "Good evening. You have reached the Gilmore Residence. Neither of the two lovely Gilmore ladies are in right now, so when you leave a message, keep in mind that we will only phone you back if we like you, or if you offer us chocolate." Here Rory's voice could be heard, "Mom, do you know where my blue sweater is?' 'Shh! I'm recording!' 'Mom! You knew I wanted to wear it!' 'Uh, no I didn't!' 'I told you last night at Luke's.' 'If I recall, last night at Luke's, you were too busy being kissy-kissy with your boyfriend to tell me of your fashion choices!' 'Mom!" The beep sounded, and a new voice filled the room.  
  
"Lane, it's Dave. Uh, I just wanted to talk to you. Call me."  
  
Tears were rolling down Lane's face, soaking Rory's pillow. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair, and Lane couldn't do anything about it.  
  
---  
  
"Lane! You will be late!" Mrs. Kim called up the stairs. Lane awoke groggily. She had slept through her alarm, and more than a few reprimands. Quickly she pulled on a pair of jeans and brushed her hair. She ran into the kitchen, taking her already made lunch from the fridge and pouring herself a glass of milk to help soften the whey and lentil muffins her mother made for breakfast.  
  
"Okay, I'm going to school now Mama!" Lane called, running for the door.  
  
"Why you sleep so late?" Mrs. Kim asked, intercepting Lane's escape.  
  
"I dunno, I've been pretty tired lately, I guess..." Lane answered, trying to meet her mother's eye. She was tired because she had spent the entire night with Dave.  
  
"Are you getting sick?"  
  
"No Mama."  
  
"Taking drugs?"  
  
"No Mama."  
  
"Is there a boy?"  
  
"No Mama," Lane repeated, stressing the words slightly. Mama Kim peered down at her daughter.  
  
"Take one more muffin," she said, shoving one into her hands. "Now go."  
  
Lane didn't need a second command.  
  
---  
  
Their fingers were intertwined. "I guess you have to leave now," she said, looking over the tops of the houses at the sunrise.  
  
"Yeah..." he responded, running his eyes over her flawless profile. She blinked but didn't respond to his lack of movement. "I have something for you," Dave murmured, not moving.  
  
"What?" Lane asked curiously, turning to look at him. "A present?"  
  
"Not quite," he replied, and kissed her softly.  
  
Lane raised her eyebrows at him.  
  
"It's actually information."  
  
"Really."  
  
"Yeah. How much is it worth to you?" he asked, and when he ran his fingers over her inner thigh, she giggled. Lane leaned her head against Dave's shoulder, her hips pressed close against his. "Tonight," he continued softly, looking again out over the town, "is the one hundredth night."  
  
"One hundredth night?" she repeated, looking up at him.  
  
After a minute he responded quietly, "I've been up here one hundred times." She turned to face him, his hands in her hair, over her face, down her body. Insistently he placed hot kisses on her mouth, down her neck. One nightgown shoulder slipped down.  
  
"Dave," she said, pulling away to look at him. He turned also, lazily loping one leg over the other. "I know that this has been hard for you...with all the sneaking around." Lane looked down. "I know that you wanted for us to have a normal relationship, and I...I don't think that's going to happen." She blinked rapidly, careful to avoid his eyes. "I love you, but...this...this isn't...I'm really sorry...but-"  
  
"Lane," he interrupted, sharply. Easily he swung himself next to her, pinned her mouth shut with his. "Shut up."  
  
---  
  
Dave, Zack and Brian were driving through Stars Hollow, instruments and spare body parts draped out of windows. As usual, Brian was complaining about food, and Zack about Brian. It was unusually hot and sticky outside, and they were complaining about that too. Only Brian had the decency to keep clothed, at least until practice started. Dave himself had taken off his shirt, fearing a Mrs. Kim meeting less than being roasted alive.  
  
Brian and Zack both dove for the cover of the garage, but Dave lingered, seeing Lane sitting on the porch. She was talking to Rory and Lorelai, her back to him. A half grin and a slight wave in their direction was enough to realize that they were talking about him.  
  
"Honey," Lorelai interrupted, "speaking of, well, Dave. He's here."  
  
Lane turned around quickly, and knocked into Dave, spilling the lemonade she was holding.  
  
"Huh, I guess I should have told you he was behind you..." Lorelai mused aloud.  
  
"I'll lend you a shirt," Rory offered, shooting her mother a dirty look.  
  
Brian stuck his head out the door, "what's the hold up?"  
  
It was Lorelai who replied, surprisingly enough. "Uh, lemonade! I'm making lemonade! With lemons! And, uh, other stuff that goes into lemonade. It'll just be a minute, because I'm still growing the uh, lemons, and the sugar isn't cold enough yet, so...yeah. In a sec, 'kay?"  
  
"Cool," Brian responded, and ducked back in.  
  
Dave raised his eyebrows at Lane, who was equally bemused.  
  
---  
  
"Here," Lane said, offering Dave a towel from the back of the bathroom door.  
  
"Thanks," he replied, but didn't use it.  
  
"What?" asked Lane, as she took off her lemon-drenched shirt.  
  
"You're not wearing a bra."  
  
She looked at him amused. "So?"  
  
"How am I going to be able to play when you're ten feet away, and I know you're not wearing a bra?"  
  
"You're not wearing a shirt," she responded, "besides, it's too hot."  
  
Dave pulled her to him, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, answering his kiss hungrily.  
  
Outside, Rory was knocking timidly on the door. "Guys? Uh, Lane?"  
  
Dave was the one to break away first. He pointed to the door.  
  
"Lemonade's ready," she called through the door.  
  
"Thanks!" Lane replied breathlessly, and with one final kiss broke away from Dave.  
  
"This is going to be an interesting practice..." he murmured as he watched her pull a shirt over her head.  
  
"Come on," Lane said, pulling him out the door.  
  
---  
  
Today the diner was full. From the mafia seats Lane and Rory had a good view of the other customers. Jess was racing around, coffee pot in hand and scowl on face. Every few orders he would come over and kiss Rory. Lane rolled her eyes.  
  
"You're kidding!" Rory squealed loudly before the fifth such visit.  
  
"What?" asked Jess, turning one chair around and swinging his leg over.  
  
"Aren't you supposed to be working?" Lane quipped, sipping her coffee.  
  
"Break." Jess turned his attention once again to his girlfriend. "So?"  
  
"Brace yourself," she said grinning. Lane glared at her. "Dave, the man who we all know and love-"  
  
"It's not a big deal," Lane interjected, but was ignored.  
  
"Dave owns the Clueless soundtrack," Rory said, grinning from ear to ear.  
  
Incredulously, Jess turned to Lane. "From the movie?"  
  
"So what?" she asked defensively, "it's a good soundtrack. When's the last time you saw Clueless?" Grinning, Jess picked up the coffeepot from the table and kissed Rory. Shaking his head, he walked away. Rory swung her attention back to an indignant Lane.  
  
"What?" she shot back, blushing. "It is."  
  
---  
  
"No. No way."  
  
"Come on man, just-"  
  
"No," Dave said again, taking off his guitar and slamming it down on the stand more harshly than necessary. "No way. We decided that we would never do our own and-"  
  
"But that's when we sucked man! We're good now!"  
  
"Zack, we agreed. We are a cover band. We do not write out own songs. Garage bands that write their own songs suck. They sound like their influences, they get played on MTV."  
  
Brian put up his hand. "I agree with Zack. If we want any respect, we need to write our own songs."  
  
"Come on Dude, just look to them!" Zack said, thrusting a stack of paper at Dave. "I wrote the words, and we can work on the music."  
  
"No." Dave said, ignoring Zack's outstretched hand. "We are a cover band. That's what we agreed when we started this."  
  
"Dave, this could be a good idea! Cover bands don't get famous!" Brian argued.  
  
"Famous?" Dave practically yelled, flinging his arms up in a most un-Dave- like fashion. Lane looked on nervously. Zack and Brian stood on one side of the garage, facing the guitarist. "We couldn't even choose a name for ourselves, how are we going to choose a sound?"  
  
"A sound? What are you talking about man? We have a sound!" Zack yelled back.  
  
"Yeah, we sound like The Beatles and Nirvana and Queen and the White Stripes and every other band that we cover!"  
  
"Dave, think about it this way-" Brian tried.  
  
Zack, impatient, cut in. "Dude, what kind of democracy is this?"  
  
"Democracy?" Dave seethed, "You want a fucking democracy? Fine. Zack, you want us to do our own songs. Brian?"  
  
Brian swallowed. "It could work. But they have to be good," he added hastily, shooting a look at Zack who looked increasingly pleased with himself.  
  
"Fine. Brian and Zack want to write music. I don't. Lane?"  
  
Nervously, Lane looked up from her drum sticks. "Write our own songs?" In the garage, Zack and Dave were feet apart, and looked moments away from starting a fist-fight. "Well...we could at least look at what Zack has. I mean..."  
  
Dave cut her off. "Three to one. Fine. Fantastic. I have to go. I'll see you guys later."  
  
"Don't worry," Brian said, seeming Lane's distressed look. "He'll get over it. He always does." Ignoring the victory 'high-fives' going around, she ran after her boyfriend.  
  
---  
  
Lane found Dave sitting on the bridge, his feet dangling over the water. "Dave?" she asked, tentatively sitting next to him. He remained silent. "Dave, I'm sorry. I don't think it's so bad. What does it matter if the guys want to experiment a bit?" Still no answer. "Who knows, Zack might be a good songwriter." Dave said nothing. "Dave...what is it?" She put her hand on his leg.  
  
He shook his head. "I..." he stopped. "We weren't supposed to do our own stuff. You weren't supposed to side with them."  
  
"Oh Dave," Lane said, and slipped her arm around his waist. "I love you."  
  
He turned to look at her. "I know."  
  
Smiling slightly, Lane leaned and kissed him softly. "Would you have really left?"  
  
They stood up to leave. "No, I couldn't have. I forgot my guitar."  
  
She laughed, hugging him close to her. "Men..." she mused aloud.  
  
---  
  
"I'm have a problem," Lane told Rory. They were sitting on the front steps, drinking iced coffee and eating popsicles.  
  
"What is it?" Rory asked, licking her blue lips with her even bluer tongue. With one hand she brushed her hair over her shoulder and turned to face her best friend. Lane swallowed. How could she tell her? It was yet another hurdle that Rory had never faced, and undoubtedly wouldn't understand. "Lane, you can tell me," she worriedly said when the Korean girl didn't reply.  
  
"It's a boy problem," Lane said slowly, after a long sip of coffee. "More specifically, a Dave problem."  
  
"What's wrong? You guys always seem so perfect..." Rory stopped at the look on her face. "Did you break up?"  
  
Lane blinked. "Oh, no. Things are going great!"  
  
"Yeah, that's what I thought," Rory replied, slightly confused. "Then what's the problem?"  
  
"Well, things are going really great, and well..." Lane trailed off, looking at Rory hopefully.  
  
"Oh!" she replied, looking at the other girl, eyes saucered. "That's great Lane!"  
  
"Except..." Lane took a breath. "He doesn't want too."  
  
Rory's eyes widened. "Oh..."  
  
"Yeah..." Lane laughed dryly, "I bet you've never had that problem." Rory couldn't meet her eyes.  
  
After a few silent minutes, Rory looked up at Lane again. "Maybe he isn't sure that you really want too. Before Jess and I-" she stopped embarrassed. "He kept asking if I was sure. He really didn't want to pressure me."  
  
Lane shook her head. "No, he knows." She looked at the steps, where her fingernails had pulled up strips of paint and wood. On the other side, Rory had done the same thing.  
  
"Maybe he isn't ready. Jess-" Rory stopped again. Hearing of Jess' sexual prowess probably wasn't the best treatment. "Lane, I'm sure he wants too, but maybe it isn't the right time."  
  
Lane contemplated her popsicle. Inside, the phone rang. "It's for you," Rory said, looking at her watch, which read four thirty. "He's getting kind of good at that, huh?" she asked, hugging her best friend.  
  
"Saturday, four-thirty on the dot..." Lane said, and went to answer it.  
  
---  
  
Dave was sitting on the Gilmore stoop, waiting for Lane. A car pulled up in the driveway and both Lorelai and Rory got out. "Dave?" the latter queried, walking over.  
  
"Oh, hey Rory. What's up?"  
  
Rory handed her bags to her complaining mother and sat on the step next to Dave. "Dave, you were here when we left. Didn't Lane-"  
  
"No, actually, Lane didn't." He stood up, brushed off his pants. "Lane hasn't done anything, actually. She hasn't returned any of my calls, she hasn't tried to contact me, her Mother says that she hasn't been home, obviously she hasn't been here-" He stopped, turned to face Rory. "What did I do?"  
  
"Oh, I'm sure it's nothing," Rory said, not sounding entirely sure either.  
  
"Please. She's not at school, she's not at church, she's not at Lukes, she not at any of the twelve record stores I know she likes-"  
  
Lorelai poked her head out the door. "Hey Dave, wanna stay for dinner? We're ordering Chinese. I'm sure that Rory and I can straighten things out for ya." When he hesitated, she added brightly, "come on, it'll be fun!"  
  
He exchanged a look with Rory before following Lorelai into the house.  
  
---  
  
The phone was ringing. Lane waited six and a half rings before remembering that her mother was out for the evening, and dropped the book she was attempting to read. She didn't know how Rory did it. After little more then an hour her eyes were dancing all over the page, looking anywhere but at the words. Hastily she disentangled herself from the covers on the bed and ran to the phone. "Hello?"  
  
"Lane, I need your help."  
  
"Rory?" she asked, not entirely sure the panicked voice belonged to her best friend.  
  
"You have to come over."  
  
Lane blinked rapidly. "What? What's wrong?" Instantly her mind jumped to Jess. "Did you-"  
  
"Just come. Please." There was a tear in her voice. "Please Lane."  
  
"Oh, of course. I'll be right there." Lane waited until she heard Rory's phone disengage, and hung up herself. Not bothering to write a note, Lane pulled on her jacket and left, slamming the door behind her.  
  
She took the short cut, and minutes later was banging on the kitchen door. "Rory?" she called, pressing her nose against the glass. It wasn't often unlocked, but tonight was an exception. Lane cautiously let herself in, taking in the darkness of the house. "Rory?" she said softly, pushing open her bedroom door quietly. The house was quiet.  
  
Lane tiptoed into the living room. "Rory?" she said, a bit louder. "Thanks," she said aloud. "Call me and then go out. Great. Really great. Nearly gave me a heart attack, but that's what best-" she stopped, saw the rows of candles lining the front door. Guardedly, Lane approached the front door and opened it. Outside the lines of candles continued, across the porch, down the stairs and beyond. Unconsciously tugging her jacket closer to her body, Lane closed the door and followed the path. The clear destination was the garage.  
  
Lane started forward at an almost ravenous pace, but stopped herself. What if this wasn't for her? Maybe Rory and Jess had fought, and he was making it up to her. She obviously wasn't needed any longer, so she should just go home. 'But,' a little voice nagged at her, 'what if it is for you?'  
  
Warily, Lane continued along the trail of candles, wished that the gravel wouldn't sound so loud beneath her feet. There was light spilling out from under the door. Taking a deep breath, Lane pulled it open.  
  
---  
  
Dave looked up from his guitar, but didn't stop playing. "...she said she loves you, and you know that can't be bad, she loves you, and you should be glad. She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah. She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah. She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah. With a love like that, you know you should be glad..."  
  
"Beatles?" Lane asked, even though she already knew the answer. The garage was lined with candles also. She hadn't ever thought of candles as anything other then a waste of money, but Dave had bought five hundred. "Wow, Dave-"  
  
He put down his guitar and stood, took her hands. "Hey..." he said, not meeting her eyes.  
  
"Where's the music coming from?" she asked curiously.  
  
"Uh, the car." Lane smiled widely, and looked out the window, and spotted the beaten up car a few feet away. 'She Loves You' had finished and the stereo was playing 'Love is All You Need'.  
  
"So, Rory set this up," he said needlessly. Lane didn't hear him. She had just seen the open sleeping bag, the small box. Dave saw her startled reaction. "I-I'm sorry. I don't know what- well, I do, but, I- I should have talked to you first, but I thought since you-"  
  
Concerned, she lay her hand against his cheek. "Dave?" Before she realized it, he was kissing her. "Dave," she said again, breaking away. "We don't have to...if you don't want to. Just because I want to doesn't mean that-"  
  
Dave shook his head. "Lane, I want to-" he started, breaking off to kiss her again. It was demanding, and Lane found herself let him take off her jacket, heard it hit the floor.  
  
There wasn't enough air. They broke off, foreheads pressed together, panting. Dave linked his hands with his girlfriends. "Lane," he whispered, licked the tips of her fingers.  
  
"Dave," she replied, gazing at him sultrily. He dipped his head and Lane opened her mouth to his, devouring his taste.  
  
"You are amazing," Dave said into her ear, pressing himself against her. He led them backwards, and he seemed to know when bare floor met sleeping bag, and ungracefully they tumbled. Lane's laugh turned to loud moans. Quickly Dave unbuttoned her shirt, pulling it off. "You weren't expecting this, were you?" Dave asked, eyebrows raised. Lane blushed and crossed her arms over the uniform white cotton bra. Gently he took her wrists in his hands. "I love you," he whispered, and kissed her again.  
  
-  
  
Somehow Lane was on her back, struggling to remove the ever-present sweater best. "I hate this!" she growled.  
  
"You gave to me for my birthday," he replied, chuckling. Lane glared at him and tugged it over his head.  
  
"You're enjoying this," she snapped, now victorious, and rolled them over. Dave looked up at her; lips bruised, cheeks flushed, hair hopelessly tangled.  
  
"I'm not denying anything." He pulled her mouth down to his.  
  
-  
  
Lane pulled away. "Why are we listening to Jesus Christ Superstar?"  
  
"Sorry," Dave said, returning his downward descent on Lane's body. He fumbled on the buttons of her jeans, but managed to open them.  
  
"No, it's fine, I find it refreshing," she laughed, her breathing coming faster. Beside the couple, an increasingly large pile of clothing was accumulated. He hooked his thumbs over the waist band of Lane's panties, his jagged fingernail catching in the material.  
  
"Lane?" he asked, not entirely sure what to do. The lady in question smiled down at him and said nothing. "Well, here goes nothing" he said to no one in particular.  
  
-  
  
"Are you sure about this?" he asked nervously, watched her open the box of condoms he had bought from a convenience store two towns away.  
  
"Dave," she said, and pulled him in for a fierce kiss. "Hurry up already."  
  
He didn't need to be told twice. "God Lane, I love you."  
  
She smiled up at him, ran her fingers through his hair and down his neck. "Believe me...the feeling is mutual."  
  
---  
  
"So, was that good for you?" he asked, nuzzling her face, like he had done that day in the woods, so long ago.  
  
Lane curled up next to Dave, pulled a corner of the sleeping bag over them. "Mmmhmm..." she sighed, her eyes closing contentedly.  
  
"Hey, no falling asleep...I have to return you soon." Dave kissed her. Lazily, Lane opened her eyes and looked up at him.  
  
"Soon," she said, pulling him down for another kiss. "But not yet."  
  
---  
  
FIN  
  
--- 


End file.
